Title: Fool in Leather
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse (post-Mallrats, but otherwise indeterminate 
in time)
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Status: New
Rating: NC-17. Maybe the old, original, X for Adult Content. :> 
Series/Sequel: Sequels "Fool in Motley" and "Fool in Denim". Whole 
lotta fools suddenly.
Disclaimer: Yes, practically everything I write involves characters 
originally created by other people. Those other people will 
hopefully feel flattered. Fans make the world go round.
Warnings: Bob talks more than usual. Some Scary Jay stuph.
Notes: Who besides ren saw this morphing into three parts? I 
originally just saw this as a way to use some of the lesser-known 
sonnets, and look what it's morphed into. Written to three songs on 
repeat from Shriekback's "Oil and Gold" album: `Nemesis', `Faded 
Flowers', and `This Big Hush'.
Summary: Jay wakes up and it's so much worse that before.


"Fool in Leather"
by Kelandris

*Swimming up from unconsciousness is so much better when the beloved 
is there to stroke the hair from your face, make you feel welcome 
back in the world. Just the sight of the beloved is enough to make 
all right with all things, and make you relax into the bliss of 
knowing that you are loved, are desired, are beloved as the beloved 
is.*

*Unless, of course, you're a clueless street punk who just wants his 
roommate to go back to being his roommate, and stop reading love 
poetry and looking at him, and on top of that, wants desperately to 
forget the fact that he now, inexplicably, loves a guy.*

Jay whimpered when he woke up, squinting his eyes against sudden 
light. It wasn't that it was so light under the canopy; it was more 
that it had been so dark, for so long, when he was out.

He had been out, right? He blinked several times, and the soft 
surface he lay on shifted beneath him. That startled him into 
wakefulness.

Bob. Oh, fuck. He was laying on Bob. Who was smiling down at him, 
and stroking his hair, and he was *laying* on Bob's lap... He looked up, 
and up, and up, and had the sudden shocking realization that if he 
turned to the left he'd be at lip level with Bob's dick...

**Fuck!** He sat up, groaning. Bob scooted back, and that was the 
first time Jay realized he'd changed.

"Velvet's gone," he mumbled.

"Faire's over," Bob replied. He gestured at the canopy. "We take 
this over to Jimmy's house after we leave; it's the last of it to go 
down."

*Go down...* The words echoed in a big, booming way inside his skull, 
and he pressed his hands against his ears. That only seemed to make 
it worse, however. He squinted his eyes shut, chanting random words 
from songs he could remember under his breath, to block it out.

"Head still hurt?"

Solicitous bastard, Jay thought resentfully. "Yeah," he said 
aloud. "Guess I got too much sun."

"Or something," Bob replied, standing up. His leather trench swung 
around him, deeply familiar and yet new. It took Jay a while to 
figure out why, and when he did, he started mumbling those random 
song lyrics again. It was because he was watching now, watching the 
sweep of the leather coat around Bob's chest, Bob's hips and thighs 
and calves. Just like the way he watched Bob tap out a cigarette, 
light it with a practiced click-and-strike of his Zippo, the 
economical way he moved.

Now he was moving to the canopy, and Jay slowly stood, weaving a bit 
on his denim-clad legs. He watched for a moment as Bob moved around, 
unhooking stakes from tethers, unseating the spiked seats for the 
canopy's legs. He ambled over, beginning to help with take-down, 
untying nylon tethers, unsnapping aluminum legs. It was something to 
do to avoid thinking. He left it to Bob to fold up the layer of dags 
that draped over the top of the canopy, and then he was searching 
around for the box for the whole affair. 

There it was, he thought, reaching for it, at the same time Bob 
reached down. Their hands touched on the lid of the box. Jay jerked 
back as if burned, and Bob--did Bob sigh? Had he heard that? No, 
couldn't have been. `Cos Bob an' him, they were just roommates, they 
just lived together, no big fucking deal... Right? *Right?*

Bob fit everything neatly into the box, and shouldered it, starting 
to cross the park again.

"Hey man, I can take that for you," Jay said. Bob just shook his 
head. Jay shrugged.

"Hey, ain't no skin off my--" And he clenched his jaw shut on what 
he'd been about to say, shaking his head sharply. Bob looked over, 
but only raised his eyebrows, continuing to the edge of the park and 
the bus stop, where they both waited for the next bus. The silence 
grew oppressive. Jay wasn't used to being quiet. He wasn't used to 
thinking this much, either. Damn, he just wanted to get home. Just 
get home where he could get them a couple beers, put some action film 
in, and curl up next to Bob on the couch and...

"No," he muttered, "no no no no no..." Then he shut up when Bob looked 
over. 

"What?" he asked loudly. "Fucker can't go insane when he wants to 
anymore?"

Bob just shook his head again, pointing down the street. Great. 
About damn fucking time for the bus to arrive. But it was a long and 
twitchy drive to Jimmy's place, through territory Jay usually didn't 
cross without an armored car. Still, there was an up side. As Bob 
walked across the street from the `stop, Jay realized there was a 
liquor store on *his* side of the street. Wonderful. He popped in, 
grabbed a six-pack of something on special--he didn't even look--and 
a fifth of Southern Comfort. Yeah, what he was in the mood for, beer 
and bourbon. Sounded good. Fuck what Bob wanted. 

On his way to the register, on impulse, he grabbed a couple little 
airport bottles--little thing of rum, little thing of whiskey, little 
thing of tequila. He paid, and walked out, walking just around the 
corner of the store so he could watch the stop. He downed the three 
little bottles, shoving them and the smaller sack under the lip of 
the trash bin in the alley, Then he saw Bob walking across the 
street. He ambled back over, starting to feel a little more relaxed, 
though he wondered how long his lips would be numb and tingly. Fuck 
it... like he wanted to talk a lot today, anyway. 

He sat down by the window on the next bus, Bob sitting next to him, 
and just for a minute, he leaned his head against Bob's arm. Then he 
sat up ramrod straight, staring fixedly out the window. It was an 
even longer trip home, and this time he heard clearly the sound of 
Bob sighing.

By the time he and Bob got home, he was so tense he was nearly 
vibrating. He carried the sack up the stairs, watching as Bob bent 
to unlock the front door, and walked directly to the kitchen when he 
got inside. Glass, glass, where was the... Okay, here was a good-sized 
juice glass, he could use that. Ice, now, and bourbon. Did they 
have any Coke? He opened the fridge to check, and caught Bob's 
reflection in the chrome strip.

He jumped a foot, and turned around, laughing. There was a 
hysterical edge to his laughter that he absolutely hated. And Bob 
shook his head again.

**Would you fucking *stop it* with the head shaking??** Jay thought, 
and then clapped his hand over his mouth. It was a full ten seconds 
before Bob's expression registered for him; he hadn't said anything 
aloud.

He laughed again, that upsetting sound full of jagged glass and 
razors.

"What?" he said. Fuck, even his voice sounded like he was about to 
break down. That would be *all* they needed, him cryin' like a 
little baby on the linoleum. Bob stepped forward and Jay started to 
step back, and ran into the fridge.

"Jay..." Bob said. 

**Fuck don't, fuck don't... don't say it...**

"Are we gonna talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" he asked, turning around again. Yes, good, they 
had Coke. He poured some into the glass, more for color than 
anything else, and walked out of the kitchen over to the couch. Two 
steps past, he reversed himself, grabbing the fifth and taking it 
with him.

Bob just watched him. He waited until Jay sat down on the couch, 
then leaned on the breakfast bar.

"You want me to bring the Coke?"

Jay downed the liquid in the glass, grimacing at the burn, then sat 
back, feeling the oily sweetness of the bourbon coat his throat.

"Nah, I'm good. You?"

Bob just shook his head, walking over to the couch.

"You wanna watch Hard Target?" Jay asked hopefully.

Bob just shook his head again. "Don't think so. I think we--"

"No talking!" Jay wailed, pouring another bourbon and downing that 
one as quick as the first. He poured a third, set it to his lips, 
looking over at Bob. Bob just stared at him, sadness on his face and 
something else. It was that something else he wanted to avoid, he 
thought, blinking away another image of Bob naked.

Another glass down. Shit, maybe he should just drink from the 
bottle. He grabbed it and Bob pulled it out of his hands.

"You do that, you'll end up in the hospital," Bob said.

Jay shook his head violently. "No. You wouldn't. You promised. 
You said you never would."

"I know. But alcohol poisoning--"

"It's my alcohol! It's my poisoning! My fucking choice," he said, 
slumping on the couch. Shit, three drinks now and he was under the 
table? He was fuckin' slippin'... Oh, shit, he *was* slipping, off the 
damn couch!

Bob moved over, catching him and holding him for a moment. Jay 
happily relaxed in Bob's arms, before he remembered he didn't like 
that, and stiffened. Bob set him back against the black cushions.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Nah, I was gonna eat somethin' at the Faire, but then I heard you, 
and I had to... had to..." He couldn't remember now. He blinked, 
watching blearily as Bob turned to rise, muttering something about 
blood sugar."

"No, don't leave!" he wailed, and then slapped his hand over his 
mouth again. Oh, shit, that one he *had* said aloud. Bob sat back, 
though, staring at him. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Why can't we...

"Why can't we," he said aloud, "just be friends? Why can't we just 
forget about all this love shit? It's messin' me up *bad*!"

"We can," said Bob softly. Jay went on, oblivious.

"I mean, I can't stop thinkin' about you, and not in good roomy ways, 
in bad, evil *naked* ways, you know? I think about you in the 
shower, and I think about you in bed, and I think about all those 
times I heard you through the walls, when you were... when you were..." 
He inhaled, swallowing, leaning against Bob. He looked up into Bob's 
shocked dark eyes.

"An' I can't take it, man. I can't take it. Any more and I'm gonna 
have to... I'm gonna have to... kiss... you..." His heart thudded in his chest 
but he leaned up, grazing Bob's lips with his. Oh, they were just as 
soft as he'd hoped. He inched closer, and tangled one hand clumsily 
in Bob's silky hair. He pulled him down just enough to fasten on 
those perfect lips, kiss them open, kiss past the teeth and find 
Bob's tongue, sliding his own into Bob's mouth while Bob's breathing 
sped up.

Then Bob pulled away, pulled back.

"Wait, Jay," he gasped. He shook his head, shrugging out of his 
trenchcoat and laying it over one arm of the couch where it gleamed, 
black on black. "I can't do this. *We* can't do this. You're 
drunk."

"I am not drunk," Jay said slowly. "I am pissed. And I am working 
my way towards shit-faced."

Bob blinked.

"Now, bring your damn lips back over here."

Just for a second, Bob leaned forward, then he leaned back, shaking 
his head.

"Just so you can hate me tomorrow, and the rest of your fucking life, 
for raping you? I don't think so. You sober up and come talk to 
me." He rose from the couch, turning to walk away, and Jay snarled, 
snatching at his sweats.

"You don't get away that easy, bitch!" Putting all of his wiry 
strength into it, he pulled Bob back, and actually overbalanced him 
back onto the couch. Before his Bob could move, he straddled him, 
thrusting his hips forward on the large bulge he felt at Bob's crotch.

"Oh, yeah... Now we find out who's fuckin' gay..." And he leaned down, 
his hair falling over both their shoulders, and kissed Bob for all he 
was worth.

Bob responded, first whimpering, then pulling him closer, stroking 
his hands through Jay's long hair, holding the sides of his face as 
he kissed Jay, kissed Jay, kissed Jay. Jay's head was swimming from 
more than just the bourbon, and Bob's mouth felt so good on his. His 
lips still felt so soft, and his tongue was a conniving terrorist, 
licking along every surface in Jay's mouth until he couldn't 
breathe. He sat back, gasping, looking around as if seeing things 
for the first time. He blinked, weaving on Bob, and Bob seemed to 
get back some self-possession.

"Jay. You should really go to bed."

"Great idea, man..." Jay purred, reaching behind him for the bourbon. 
He swallowed, two big gulps from the bottle, then pulled Bob's 
sweatshirt up, and poured cool bourbon on his chest.

Bob gasped, arching back, and Jay dove down, licking the droplets 
trapped in Bob's chest hair, licking the drops hanging from his 
nipples, licking down as far as he could without moving. Then he 
moaned, cursing under his breath as he rose off that lovely hardening 
bulge, moving to the carpet in front of the couch. Another swallow 
of bourbon before he set the bottle down, and he was having just the 
slightest trouble focusing, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing 
fucking mattered anymore but getting Bob's pants off him so he could 
see that big lovely bulge for himself. Yeah, and maybe lick some 
Southern Comfort off *that*...

He tugged at the waistband, expecting them to slide down, but damn, 
Bob was going to have to move, and Bob wasn't moving. He looked up, 
struggling to focus, and cursed again.

"You shtop shaking your fuckin' head, awright? Whatha fuck is it 
now?" he slurred.

"You're drunk," Bob said. He sounded so stern, ooh, the perfect 
little daddy. Then Jay snickered. If this went on much longer, 
neither of them would be anybody's daddy. Save for each other... Jay 
snickered more, returning his attention to Bob's pants.

"I'm not moving, Jay. You'll just have to give up."

"Fuck that, I'll jusht chew through," he whispered, and sunk his face 
between Bob's ample thighs. Freshets of hot breath laved Bob's 
crotch, and Jay sent his hands underneath Bob, to pull him a little 
closer. Bob obliged, whimpering, little wordless cries that were 
heaven to hear.

"Oh, yeah," Jay breathed. He could just make out the outlines of the 
monster in Bob's pants. His mouth was watering, and he finally 
succeeded, with all of the squirming around Bob was doing, in pulling 
down the waistband of Bob's sweats. It took some time, but he untied 
the knot of the drawstring, and stretched the waist as far as it 
would open, pulling it and the front of his shorts down at the same 
time.

Bob's cock popped out into open air, and Jay cooed.

"Ooh, now there's a pretty thing," he said. And he swallowed it, 
sucking Bob in hard, sucking him down.

"Jay, you shouldn't... oh, God, Jay... oh fuck... Jay, no, you'll remember 
this tomorrow, and I don't want you to... fuck... *fuck*... don't want you to...
hate me..." Bob trailed off, gasping for air, arching back against the 
couch cushions, thrusting his cock deeper into Jay's mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he panted. "So good... so sweet... fuck, your mouth, Jay, oh 
God, you've got a great mouth..." Then he shook his head, straining 
against Jay's grasp.

"No, you gotta stop, you gotta, you gotta... oh, *God!*" He jerked 
forward, shuddering, gasping, shaking his head from side to side. 
Jay had completely swallowed him; Jay's tongue was licking his balls, 
and Jay's throat was contracting around the tip of Bob's cock.

"Fuck!" Bob gasped. "Fuck! Fuck!"

**Talent shows,** Jay thought sarcastically, and yeah, how was this 
for hot? He'd finally found a way to make the silent motherfucker 
talk. How was that for beautiful? Mmm, and God, he could barely 
swallow around Bob, he was so *huge*... but oh, so good, and feeling him 
tremble was so good, and hearing him gasp was so motherfuckin' *good*...

**Inside**, came the urgent thought. Yeah. Yeah. Jay pulled off 
Bob, earning other whimper, and shucked off his jeans as fast as 
possible. He got tangled in the ankles, and almost went down, but 
Bob was there to catch him, and yeah, that was good too, Bob's cock 
rubbin' against his, rubbin' and rubbin', movin', both of them so 
hard, still twitching, still moving...

Jay reeled back a bit, pushing Bob down on the couch again. Smiling 
wickedly, he straddled Bob again.

"Inside," he said, leaning forward, kissing the big man's neck, 
kissing up to his ears, biting one earlobe and listening as Bob 
gasped again.

"C'mon, man, I need it, I need it baaaad..." He thrust against Bob, 
and Bob whimpered again, dropping his hands to Jay's hips.

"I can't," Bob whimpered. "I want to, I do, but I don't want you to 
hate me. I can't stand it if--"

"No more talk. Fuck now," Jay said, and reached between their legs, 
grabbing Bob and guiding him up, spreading his own legs wide.

"Wait," Bob gasped. "Wait. If you're sure... Oh, fuck, what am I 
doing?"

He got up from the couch, staggering to the bedroom. Jay noticed 
with a smile he still wore his t-shirt, then remembered, he was still 
half-dressed himself. He threw his clothes to the floor, leaning 
back on the couch and stroking himself, waiting for Bob to return. 
He had another couple of slugs of bourbon, and even poured a little 
on his hands, relishing the bite of the alcohol on his tender skin.

Bob came out soon after that, and Jay's smile grew wider. Oh, 
gooood, Bob was all nude now, too. Muscled arms and a slightly 
barrelled chest, and powerfully muscled legs, and that monster of a 
cock jutting proudly between his legs. Of course, the cock he 
remembered sucking on hadn't been lime green...

"Whatha--" he said, pointing.

Bob looked down. "Condom. And lube." He waggled the bottle in his 
hand. "Be easier."

"Whatever," Jay said, sitting up. He watched as Bob sat down, and 
then clambered over into his lap again.

"Oh, yeah, Lunchbox, come on, come on..." He watched as Bob lubed his 
cock, the sheen of the lube sliding over the green latex making him 
look candy-coated. The blond giggled, but the giggles stopped when 
Bob pushed a lubed finger against him, working the first knuckle 
through the tight puckered ring, and then the next, and then, oh my 
fucking God, *two* fingers... Jay twitched and shuddered, his eyes 
rolling back in his head, moaning Bob's name.

"Fuck yeah... fuck yeah... more, Bob, more, oh, God, yeah... God, I love you, 
Bob..."

Bob flinched at that, and the third finger, which had been poised at 
his rear entrance, shot inside, and Jay cried out.

"Hurt? Are you--did I--?"

"No, fuck no... No, fine, I'm fine, when are you gonna *fuck me?*" Jay 
wailed.

"In a minute," Bob whispered. He moved three fingers inside Jay, 
turning them, twisting them, and Jay was shuddering all over now. 
Fuck, nothing in his whole fucking *life* had ever felt this fucking 
good... Not booze, not pot, not hash, not the one time he'd tried X at a 
rave. Hell, *girls* didn't feel this fucking good... Fuckin' hells, 
he'd've been a fag *long* before this if he'd ever known... Oh, *fuck!* 
*Four* fingers, *four*, turning and twisting him inside out, moving 
against each other, moving against him, and fuck, and fuck, and oh, 
too good, too good, he was gonna, he was gonna--

Bob pulled his fingers out, earning a yelp from Jay, breathing hard 
on top of him. He just shrugged, smiling a little as he spread Jay's 
ass cheeks wide.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck me, Bob, please, please, *please* fuck me..."

And Bob pushed the head of his cock against Jay's lubed little hole, 
and pushed slowly in. Jay cried out, arching back, hair flailing in 
haloed strands around his head.

"Yeah," he cried. "Yeah, yeah Bob, oh, yeah, like that, Bob, like 
that... Fuck me, fuck me hard, wanna feel you fuck me *hard*, Bob!"

Bob fastened his hands on Jay's hips, driving up into Jay, the sound 
of their breathing harsh in the still room. And Jay was filled, Jay 
was full of Bob, Jay was full of Bob's *cock*, and his eyes bugged 
out. He twitched, all over, clamping down, and Bob hissed air out 
between clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Jay breathed. "Sorry, sorry, sorry..."

"S'okay," Bob whispered. "Just... relax... if you can."

"Yeah, yeah, relax, re-fucking-lax, yeah... Hottest man I ever met is in 
*me* and you want me to relax, sure..." He leaned his head against 
Bob's chest for a moment, then realized Bob wasn't moving. Fuck, Bob 
wasn't *breathing!*

He looked up. "Bob! Hey! Breathe, man!"

Bob shook his head. "Sorry," he gasped, inhaling hugely. "I just...
you really think I'm... hot?"

Jay just blinked at him. "Yeah," he finally said. "Like I'd take it 
up the ass for anyone but you."

Bob swallowed, tracing a finger down the line of Jay's jaw. The 
expression in his eyes was indescribably tender.

"Okay, maybe Keanu Reeves. Or Antonio Banderas. Or--"

"Shhh," Bob said, placing a finger against Jay's lips. He kissed it 
shyly, and then Bob's hands were tangled in his hair again, pulling 
him forward to kiss him savagely. He took Jay's breath away, then 
pumped up into him just as savagely, pulling heated cries out of the 
blond, over and over again. And then there were no more words, just 
sounds--birdlike cries and whispered endearments and grunts and moans 
and passionate whimpers on the night air. Until Jay suddenly 
stiffened, breath hitching out of him as he stared fixedly into Bob's 
wide eyes.

"Oh fuck, Bob, I'm gonna--I'm gonna--oh, God, oh, God, Bob, come with 
me, I wanna feel you come in me, I wanna *feel* you... I wanna... I *need* 
to... "

And Bob was whimpering himself, calling Jay's name over and over, 
slamming into him hard, brutal, screaming Jay's name now.

"Jay! Fuck, Jay! *Love* you, *love* you, *need* you, gonna come, 
gonna come--right--*NOW*! *AHHH*!"

Shuddering, twitching, moaning, they collapsed against each other. 
Jay's passage was clenching around Bob, tight little muscle shivers 
that turned Jay's knees to jelly. And hot come still spurted between 
them, slowly cooling to sticky ooze on their bellies. Bob, biting 
his lips, eased out of Jay, and Jay twitched and shrieked when he did.

"Fuck," Bob whispered.

"Shower," whispered Jay.

"You can walk?" Bob asked.

"Mmm... after that, my man, if I can't, you can fuckin' carry me."

And Bob just shook his head, laughing, carrying his drunk boy off to 
hot water.

END
*****
Kelandris the Mad
how bad it gets, you can't imagine